


From a Shell

by foggynite



Category: Witch Hunter Robin
Genre: M/M, Spoilers, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 12:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggynite/pseuds/foggynite
Summary: Post ep 8, "Faith." Because Sakaki's always cannon fodder and Michael should feel bad.
Relationships: Michael Lee/Sakaki Haruto





	From a Shell

**Author's Note:**

> Written sometime between 2001 and 2005. I think.
> 
> Original Warnings: Spoilers for episode 8 “Faith” because I yelled and threw pretzels at the screen when nobody mentioned the chloroformed sacrificial lamb—I mean, Sakaki—lying on the hallway floor after Robin saved the day again. Why don’t they just rename him Cannon Fodder? Classic H/C fic here…

The office is silent, save for the clack of Michael rapidly typing. The only light source is his glowing computer screen. Lots of files to search. Plenty of work. He’s not glancing at the door every five minutes.

Really. He’s not.

The mission wrapped up two hours ago. Amon is escorting Robin to the hospital. Karasuma is waiting for the arrival of the Factory clean-up team Michael called. And Sakaki…

Sakaki will be fine. After he regained control of his limbs, he radioed Michael to let him know what was going on. Since Michael hadn’t picked up on it. Like, at all. And Robin hadn’t thought to radio it in.

The steady clicking of keys falters. His eyes stray from the elevator doors to his other computer monitor. The scene is almost cleared up.

The typing resumes, a little slower than before. He pauses to put on his earphones, but returns to the files before turning his music on. His foot is tapping a staccato rhythm on the linoleum.

Dawn has already come and gone when the lift activates. His fingers stutter to a halt. Amon’s dark hair is the first thing he sees as the elevator ascends, and he quickly continues his data entry, muffling the sound of the taller man’s approach.

“You should get some sleep.”

He was expecting the deep rumble, but he still startles slightly. With a sheepish grin, he pushes back from his desk and stretches.

“Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Amon just grunts and continues to his desk. Foot tapping again, Michael finds his attention drifting to the warped rays of sunlight coming through the window. Without looking up from a file, Amon breaks the silence.

“He’s all right, you know.”

Michael spins his chair and blinks innocently at the team leader. “What—Who is?”

Glancing at him sideways, Amon holds his gaze for a long moment, expression unreadable. Michael blushes and looks away.

Clearing his throat, he says quietly, “Thanks.”

“You should get some sleep,” Amon repeats and focuses again on his paperwork.

Michael nods absently to himself, tugging the ear phones away from his head. “Yeah. Night.”

“Morning,” Dojima yawns in his face as he starts toward the lift. He hadn’t heard her come up and jumps at her sleepy gaze.

“Bye.”

He takes the elevator down to his floor. The fluorescent lights flicker in the hallway. Opening the door to his suite, he tiredly rubs his eyes and slouches over to his bed. Pulling off his shoes and shirt, he tries not to feel like a total screw-up. It’s a long time until he drifts off to sleep.

A knock on his door wakes him up. The clock reads three hours before his next shift after he puts his glasses on. He yawns and hopes this is who he thinks it is.

“Hey.” Sakaki is slouching against his doorjamb, trying to look casual. “You all right?”

Putting on his most sarcastic expression, Michael stands back so he can come in. “Because I’m the one that almost died this morning.”

“I didn’t—“ The protest dies on the other boy’s lips. Michael turns on his desk lamp so Sakaki can get the full effect of his gaze. “Well, maybe it was a little close.”

They stand there in awkward silence. Michael hugs his bare chest and shivers a little. He had been so focused on getting the target, of making sure that Robin was on the correct path up, that when Sakaki went down, he didn’t think anything of it. Because in the back of his mind, Haruto couldn’t be injured. The older boy had been hurt on the job so many times, it just didn’t seem real anymore. But last night…

“Hey.” Sakaki’s in front of him now, tentatively reaching out to grasp his shoulder. His voice is hesitant, but when Michael just shakes his head and tries unsuccessfully to speak, his voice gentles. “Hey.”

Michael slumps into his arms, chest pressed painfully against the fastenings of Sakaki’s jacket, but the other boy just hugs him tighter. He can’t stop shaking. Hours of sitting there, acting cool for the team and the cameras above his head, and his arms feel like lead.

“It’s all right.” Sakaki’s whispering against his cheek, lips feverishly hot on Michael’s clammy skin. “It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not,” he finally whispers back, eyes dry but he’s sniffling anyway. “I put your life at stake for a mission. That’s not all right.”

“But I’m fine,” Sakaki says simply, as if that makes everything okay.

“Do you know how many side effects there are to chloroform, Haruto?” Michael pushes away from him, getting angry. “If you had an allergic reaction, you could’ve drowned in your own saliva. Hell, you don’t even know what they were planning to do to you after you were out of it. They could have carved you up or drained your life or whatever the hell it is they were after. That makes it very not all right that I left you without backup on a hallway floor for anyone to find. They might have had more partners for all we knew!”

Sighing, Sakaki lets Michael rant, shrugging out of his STNJ jacket and tossing it at the foot of the bed. Calmly walking to the little kitchenette, he digs around for a clean glass and gets water straight from the tap. Michael can’t help staring at him.

After draining the first glass and refilling it, Sakaki turns back to him, leans against the counter. “Yeah, a lot of bad stuff could have happened tonight. How is that different from any other mission? It sucks that I was out like that, but Robin handled it and we probably saved a lot of lives.”

He’s saying everything that Michael knows, but that doesn’t make it easier to take. It’s Sakaki’s job; he did it and things turned out all right. This time. But taking risks is what the other man does, and just because Michael wishes he could sit Sakaki at a desk and keep him safe, that’s not going to happen. It would be like asking Michael to take a sledge hammer to his computer.

Michael sighs and nods and turns away, wandering over to his bed. His hand lingers over the STNJ insignia on Sakaki’s jacket.

“I just… I just wish that things were different sometimes, y’know?”

A deep breath behind him and the sound of a glass being set on the counter. Michael stares at the patch until it blurs in front of him, and he’s so very tired. He thinks of Robin, younger than him and free to roam as she pleases and so unsuspecting for all her maturity. He thinks of Amon, cold and dark and broken, hiding so many things and never trusting anyone. He doesn’t want Sakaki to end up like that. He can’t.

Warm hands on his bare shoulders, sliding along his skin just to establish contact, to touch. Michael’s eyes drift shut as scalding lips come to rest on the nape of his neck, right above his collar bone.

“Me, too…” Sakaki whispers, voice hollow and longing and loving. The hands skim down Michael’s arms, down to his waist and wrap around him.

The hacker leans back, then turns to give a half-hearted smile. “We’ll just have to make the most of what we have.”

“Yeah.”

And if his kisses are more urgent than usual, if his hands clutch just a little more tightly, neither of them mention it because their shifts start too soon to argue.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr


End file.
